The Law of Averages

Book 2: Chapter 111: Stormfront

Dan touched down on flooded streets, instantly drenching his boots. He staggered blindly towards his objective as he was battered by wind and rain. The city was in a state of near-total darkness. Power was out everywhere, and only the barest traces of sunlight pierced the dark clouds above. Light was limited to those few buildings with emergency power, the headlights of distant cars, and the flashlight in Dan’s hand. It cut through the rain just far enough to illuminate his target, a gas station that carried the emergency equipment he was looking for.

Say what you will about Dimension A, and Dan had a great many complaints on that front, but the people here knew how to plan around a disaster. Dan had been given a laminated map of the city, upon which over a dozen different gas stations had been circled. Each station had manual pumps in case of a power outage, and a fuel trailer that could be legally commandeered in case of an emergency. The roads would soon be too dangerous for driving, but Dan could, with a bit of effort, transport the fuel trailer to wherever it was needed. In this case, it was the stadium that served as the city’s primary shelter.

The thick rain made it difficult to find the storage shed that secured the fuel trailer, but Dan’s veil eventually sniffed it out. He willed himself inside, gaining a brief respite from the oncoming hurricane. The aluminum walls and roof of the storage shed rattled worryingly against their foundations, but they were no longer necessary. Dan tested the trailer’s weight with his veil, finding it lighter than he’d expected. He willed himself above the underground storage tank, dragging the trailer alongside him.

Wind bowled him over the instant he appeared, and he was thrown against the side of the trailer. The roof over the gas station groaned and bent, barely audible over the howling storm. A piece of debris snapped off, and went flying off into the distance. Dan cursed and began fiddling with the manual pumping mechanism built into the fuel storage tank. It was little more than a capped off section mounted in the concrete. Helpfully included was a long length of wide rubber hose that Dan fed into the fuel trailer, along with a mechanism not unlike a bike pump.

There was a trick to operating these things that Dan had been taught. He wasn’t sure exactly how it worked, but he kinked the hose, pumped twice, hard, on the lever, then released it. Fuel gushed out from the hose like a waterfall and Dan fed it into the fuel trailer. He was just about done securing it when a group of shadows staggered into view and scared the absolute shit out of him.

Dark shaped broke through the shroud of rain, resolving into a frightened family of four. Husband and wife each carried a small child, and they were drenched to the bone. The man carried the remnants of an umbrella, its metal frame bent beyond breaking, and missing almost all the nylon covering. The woman was in beachwear, wearing little more than a bikini. The man had trunks on, but had at least managed to scavenger a shirt and jacket from somewhere. Luggage trailed behind him on rollers, though it was as drenched as everything else. Dan’s flashlight played over them as he took in their beleaguered features, and the woman slumped in relief.

“Oh thank God!” she cried, noticing Dan’s neon orange vest. “An emergency worker! Are we close to the shelter? Our car stalled in the water, and we got turned around!”

Dan blinked at her, took in her thin, soaked frame, and the shivering toddler clutched to her chest. The man wasn’t much better. He, at least, had a functional rain jacket and he’d wrapped it around his child as best he could. Neither seemed prepared for the hurricane. The obvious occurred to Dan.

“Tourists?” he inquired, shouting to be heard over the rain.

The man nodded, leading his family into the scant shelter provided by the gas station’s overhanging roof. Dan waved him forward, cupping his hands around his mouth as he shouted over the storm, “Get inside the building and dry off!”

Dan’s veil darted out, finding the door lock and removing it. The husband led his children in, dragging open the sliding doors and quickly taking shelter within. Dan checked his fuel trailer before joining them. He shut the doors, replaced the lock, and blessed quiet filled his ears. The family had gone straight to the bathrooms, and Dan went for the supply closet. His veil found paper towels, and he willed them out. He dried his face and neck, waiting for the family to return.

They came out as a group, not dry exactly, but no longer looking like drowned rats. There were towels wrapped around their necks, so the luggage must not have been completely ruined. The children were older than Dan had first thought, maybe six or seven. Now that they weren’t being carried, he could make out the twins’ features. They peered at him from behind their mother’s legs, all the fear and discomfort of the previous moments already forgotten.

The father approached Dan, extending his hand. “Keith Simmons, thanks for the help.”

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Dan said, returning the handshake. “Dan Newman. I’m a crisis volunteer.”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded. “We saw the vest. Are we close to the shelter, then?”

Dan shook his head grimly. “Not yet.” He reached out, poking into his hammerspace. His duffel bag appeared on the counter beside him, and the father jumped. One of the twins let out a happy cry and clapped, but Dan ignored it. He unzipped his bag, rooted around until he found a pair of enormous ponchos, and passed them over.

“…Thanks.” Keith hesitantly accepted them. He passed one to his wife, then tore open the plastic wrapping and put on the poncho. His wife did the same.

“I don’t have anything that’ll fit the kids, unfortunately,” Dan lamented, looking around the store. There was an umbrella stand, for all the good it would do, and not much else of note. “You’ll have to carry them again. The nearest shelter is about three blocks away, on Dorsett. You know it?”

“We’re not from around here,” the wife piped up.

“Right. Tourists. My bad.” Dan nodded and produced one of the laminated maps he’d been given for exactly this occasion. After a moment’s thought, he added a compass, flashlight, and spare batteries. He showed the husband the shelter, which was helpfully marked with a bright yellow star. “This is where you’re going.” Dan moved his finger down the street, resting on the circled gas station. “This is where you are. Understand?”

“You’re not coming with us?” Keith asked.

Dan shook his head. “I’ve got other duties. If you’re not confident, I can try and get someone to meet you halfway. Around here.” He tapped a street corner.

The husband looked ashamed of himself as he said, “Please.”

“Alright. Gimme a sec.” Dan stepped away, keying his radio to the shelter’s channel. He called in the request and received an answer within the minute.

“You’re in luck,” he told the family. “The shelter has a foot patrol nearby. They’re leading a small group this way, and they’ll pick you up and guide you to the shelter. ETA five minutes. Bunker down in the meantime, because things are only going to get worse.”

“Is it- is it safe?” the wife asked, clutching her twins close. “What about looters?”

“The streets are already flooding, and we’ve got maybe half an hour before just being outside will be dangerous,” Dan informed her. “I don’t think looters will be prioritizing gas stations.”

“That’s alright, we’ll be fine.” Keith seemed more confident now that he was dry and a plan was in place. “Thank you for your help.”

Dan nodded at him, threw up his hood, and stepped back into the rain. The trailer was filled by the time he returned, and he quickly recapped the pump. Dan’s veil grabbed his burden tight, and he willed them both back to the stadium. He appeared near the top of the parking garage, where a heavily muscled volunteer was waiting to hook it up. Dan gave the man a cordial nod, then blinked back to the stadium floor for a new assignment.

His next job was in much the same vein as the first. Fuel was an issue everywhere. While emergency personnel like Dan primarily used radios to communicate between volunteers, each station also relied heavily on the cellular network. Cell towers generally included emergency generators to maintain the network in case of power outages. Dan had been ordered to investigate one such tower that had failed to turn back on once the power had failed.

This tower was attached to the roof of a large, sturdy building run by some tech company Dan had never heard of. Apparently, the building was considered a fortified location and could be used as a secondary shelter in a pinch, but the generator failure was concerning. The entire area was blacked out, both in power and cellular coverage. It was Dan’s job to fix it.

He had absolutely no idea how he was going to accomplish that, but accepted the job anyway. This wasn’t the time to debate the details. Hurricane Victor was slowly making landfall, growing larger, stronger, and faster by the moment. There was neither source nor end yet in sight, and Dan was one of the very few people capable of moving freely beneath the advancing disaster.

With a picture of the building provided for him, Dan was able to teleport to the roof. This time, he was able to keep his balance against the wind shear, and quickly stumbled towards the tower. He cast his light over its towering frame, noting where its foundations attached to the building below. The tower was tied into the building’s grid, but a backup generator should be somewhere nearby. He cast about the roof, buffeted by wind, until he found a locked shed near the base of the tower. His veil ate the bolt, and he pulled open the doors.

Empty. Well, that wasn’t good. There was a circular hole in the shed through which a large bundle of wires had been fed, then snipped. The generator was gone. Stolen. Spirited away.

Fucking perfect.

Dan’s veil dipped below the roof, trailed down the walls until it found a hallway, and he willed himself out of the rain. His new plan was fairly simple. It was a big building, but his veil would make short work of it. All he needed to do was find the building’s backup generator, which should stick out like a sore thumb in a place like this. That was Dan’s initial plan, but it died when he heard voices nearby. They were muffled by distance, but a quick peek around a corner solved that problem.

Two men argued with each other beside an open laptop and an electric lantern. They wore business suits and ID badges hung from lanyards around their necks. Dan was thrilled by the sight. Someone who actually knew their way around the building would be invaluable! He blinked beside the pair, immediately raising his hand in greeting.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully.

‘”AAAAHH!” they cried, jerking away from each other. One tumbled out of the rolling chair he’d been seated in, while the other let out a rapid string of curses, whipped out a can of pepper spray, and unloaded it at Dan’s face.